


An Unexpected Song

by trekkiepirate



Series: An Unexpected Song [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: A comedy of errors, Dad Jaskier, Geralt and Jaskier are in love, Geralt tries lordy does he try, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Misunderstandings, but they dance around each other like it's Strictly Come Witcher, dad geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkiepirate/pseuds/trekkiepirate
Summary: The peace of the breakfast table was broken by a portal opening barely a meter from the center of the room.Yennefer stumbled out of it backwards, a bundle held tight to her shoulder and her other arm clasped tight around a bleeding woman in a hooded cloak.Correction, a bloody woman.Every Witcher stood, instantly alert. Geralt pressed Ciri behind himself and blessed Jaskier’s lazy habits that meant the bard wasn’t out of his room yet.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, past Geralt/Yennefer - Relationship, past Jaskier/Original Female Character
Series: An Unexpected Song [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751314
Comments: 50
Kudos: 243





	1. Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Okay here's the first chapter of this super self-indulgent fic, which is mostly complete. Please let me know if you want more. Tags updated as we go.
> 
> Here we go, just providing exposition.

The peace of the breakfast table was broken by a portal opening barely a meter from the center of the room.

Yennefer stumbled out of it backwards, a bundle held tight to her shoulder and her other arm clasped tight around a bleeding woman in a hooded cloak.

Correction, a bloody woman.

Every Witcher stood, instantly alert. Geralt pressed Ciri behind himself and blessed Jaskier’s lazy habits that meant the bard wasn’t out of his room yet.

The woman coughed violently on her hands and knees.

Yennefer caught her breath, leaning on the table. “Your first portal trip can be taxing, I did say.”

“Too right,” the woman coughed again before rearing and reaching for the bundle. “Is she all right? Are you all right, Lady Yennefer?”

“Lady?” Lambert said.

The woman startled and shifted her body to protect the bundle, frantically searching the floor.

Yennefer placed a hand on her shoulder. “These are my friends; this is the safest place on the Continent you could be right now.”

Vesemir approached, wary. “What’s all this now?”

Yennefer looked up, “I vouch for her completely, Vesemir. I would not have brought them here if she posed a threat to any of you.”

“Them?” Ciri said, trying to see from past Geralt’s protective stance.

Yennefer and Vesemir helped get the other woman to her feet.

“Oh,” he said as he beheld the contents of the bundle. “Ah. Are you sure-“

At his look, Yennefer nodded, though she swayed on her feet slightly, smiling at the woman who reached out to steady her. “I was building a portal for a locator spell she commissioned me for, along with a variety of proctective charms. Nilfgaardian soldiers attacked the city. She,” she smirked at the cloaked woman, “held them off with a hidden pair of daggers while I finished the spell. I believe said daggers were left behind.”

“I have daggers!” Eskel said, “If she… needs…”

The woman looked up and from his place at the other end of the table, Geralt could not see her face, by the startled reaction of Eskel, he guessed she might have smiled at him.

“That’s kind, sir, but I truly hope I will have no need of them here.” She stood, also shaky.

Yennefer hissed in pain. “I’m all right,” she said to the worried cloud that bloomed over the room. “Portalling to a place I know takes more precise magic than just opening one to anywhere.  
And I’d done a series of spells prior to the grand escape.” She moved towards the table, taking half a loaf of bread and the pitcher of ale. “I need rest most. I swear on Chaos that she means none of you any harm and I swear to you,” this to the woman, “that no one in this place shall harm you. Every one of you is safe.”

It sounded like reassurance but a faint shimmer of magic suggested it was a promise she meant to enforce.

Vesemir helped the woman to the nearest chair, shooing Lambert out of it, and set himself to pouring her water and spooning up what remained of breakfast into the bowl meant for Jaskier.

“I am in your debt, sir,” she said, voice noble but with an odd pronunciation. Her ‘r’ a harder sound than most of the Continent spoke.

Ciri perked up a bit.

When the woman brought down the hood of her cloak, Ciri shouted.

Geralt was on edge at once, but then he realized it was a shout of joy and he watched his daughter fling herself at the woman with a cry of “Nicey!”

“By all the gods,” the woman said, her eyes filling with tears. “Cirilla, Ciri my dearest darling.” She wrapped her unoccupied arm tightly around the girl, pressing kisses to her head. “Oh, I prayed and prayed to every god that you were still safe.” Her head snapped up and she scanned the room. “Did you find-“ her eyes alit on Geralt and she smiled.

Suddenly Geralt understood Eskel’s near bashful reaction; the woman’s smile was a warming thing. “Is this your father?”

Ciri was too entranced by what the woman held to answer more than an offhand yes.

Geralt came closer, intent on introducing himself, when Ciri took the bundle and cooed at it.

It moved in her arms.

Geralt looked down and saw a peacefully sleeping babe.

Vesemir resumed his place at the head of the table. “I beg you to eat, madam-“

The Witchers all cast glances at each other. Had they ever heard their adoptive father speak with so formal a bearing?

“- but, if you’ve the strength for it, I think it would be helpful if you told us how you came to be in Yennefer’s care.”

The woman nodded, peeling off her bloody cloak and dropping it, unseeing, behind her, as she spooned food into her mouth. The dress she wore was plain in colour but made of the finest cloth. “Most pressing, I think,” she took a swallow of water, “is how I am connected to the little lion cub. I am her…” she trailed off, “blast, Cirilla, did Mousesack ever tell you what our titles were?”

“It was either second cousin or first cousin once removed, I forget.” Ciri’s eyes sharpened for a moment and she reached for the small bowl of berries. “Blueberries for your porridge?”

Scrunching up her nose, the woman frowned. “Child, have you ever seen me touch a blueberry? Throw up a pie once and you’re off them for life.”

“Not a doppler,” Ciri confirmed.

The woman startled. “Why would you-“ she looked at Ciri’s face. “No, you’re right to be suspicious. I expect you’ve had a harder trial than mine. Yes, a proper introduction then.” For all the blood on her hands and the splatter of porridge on her chin, she looked regal as she straightened her spine. “I am Countess Marlia of Kwait, just north of the Adalatte. I am niece of King Eist of the Skellige Isles, Prince Consort of Cintra.”

“Oh shit,” Lambert said. “Does she know?”

Marlia looked at him. “Do I know that Nilfgaard slaughtered my uncle, aunt and, despite what rumours persisted, I believed had killed my little cousin as well. I do know, sir. Did you know that they sent battalions to every corner of the Continent where a person even remotely connected to the Cintran throne resided and… and…” her voice trembled. “They attacked too soon. We thought we had a week, that the cold would slow them. We were still harvesting what we could and securing the villagers in the castle. I needed the information and spell from Lady Yennefer, then she was to leave us some protective wards so we could prepare for the siege. They attacked just at dawn. We thought we had more time.”

Cirilla pressed close to her cousin and butted her head against her shoulder in a gesture Geralt had learned was affectionate.

Turning to check her child was still asleep and to smile at Ciri, Marlia continued. “I… believe I must give a quick background. For context. I am, as I said, niece of King Eist. His only niece. Nicey is what Cirilla called me when she was very little, trying to say ‘Niece’ since that’s what she heard Eist and Calanthe say. Stuck as a nickname. I was married to the Count of Kwait to keep trade routes betwen our islands and the coast running smoothly. We had played together as children, it was no hardship to be wed. My husband he,” she looked around at the men then fierced her gaze as if daring their judgment when she said, “he preferred only the company of other men. I had never had much thought to give the idea of love, so it seemed a perfect arrangement. He could keep his lover, captain of his guard, always close without fearing my jealousy or resentment. By having a wife, his own secret was secure. They had been in love for years and the captain became like a brother to me. Last year, at the midwinter festival, we held a small handfasting for them. They gave the grandest of all galas, open to the whole village. Many people just thought it was to celebrate a particularly good year’s work, but those of us who knew, knew it was their marriage feast.”

Vesmir cleared his throat. “What became of the feast?”

Marlia, seemingly eased by his question, said, “We are…were,” her voice tightened, “a small land. An old castle and a small village on the coast. It was no hardship to open our doors to all. For my part, I was given the boon of choosing what entertainment we would have. I had always loved the arts, so my judgement was trusted in that regard. Mummers and players, puppeters for the children. And some musicians I had seen when I would travel to Cintra for important events. Like Pavetta’s own eventful wedding.”

Geralt looked at the woman with new eyes, trying to place her.

“It’s all right, sir,” she smiled. “I am the plainest of my siblings and I was only just sixteen. Easy to overlook. Though that night of Destiny reached a tendril out for me as well.” Her face darkened. “We… we hoped, prayed to the gods that Nilfgaard would forget me, tucked away on the coast as I was.” She cleared her throat and gently touched the infant’s side. “Anyway, I had heard one of the bards before. Seen him perform a few times in Cintra and I was very taken by his voice. His,” she ducked her head, “his looks as well. Pretty, though that isn’t a description usually applied to men, I know. I always thought him to be pretty. My husband, as I said, had no interest in me. So though I’d been married nearly eight years, I was still a maid. He always said if I ever found someone I wanted that he would never object. So over the course of the week, I let myself become attached to the troubadour. It was,” she huffed a laugh, “remarkably easy.”

Geralt hummed in his throat, thinking of the bard he had become quite attached to. And hoped, with the blessing of his family, to become attached more permanently to.

After finding Ciri, he told her of his prior adventures. Yennefer had come to teach her magic and mother her as best she could. When Cirilla heard of the dragon and the mountain, she yelled at Geralt for the better part of an hour for being so unkind to his closest, indeed often only, friend. When winter thawed and they left Kaer Morhen for the first time, she insisted on seeking Jaskier out and making Geralt apologize. The bard had held back his forgiveness for a bit, but his heart was too loving to never give it when it was sincerely sought. And he loved Cirilla like a daughter on first sight.

While they three travelled, Ciri helped Geralt see that he had hesitated to call Jaskier a friend because, deep in his heart, he wanted the man to be more. As he had not been ready for fatherhood until Ciri came running into his arms, he had not been ready to return Jaskier’s love until his daughter softened his heart enough.

They still had made no declarations, had not spoken of what they might become except with small smiles and lingering looks. But he was sure Jaskier knew of Geralt’s intentions; he expressed his affection more openly towards the bard. Jaskier had flirted with Geralt since they met, but his teasing words became more pointed lately. Geralt hoped by the end of this winter he might emerge from hibernation with not only a daughter but a husband.

He tuned back into Marlia’s story when Ciri sighed dreamily.

“Oh hush,” Marlia shook her head. “He needed someone to nurse a profound heartbreak he'd suffered the year before and I found him attractive and charming. This was not a grand romance. It should have come to nothing, except,” she nodded at the baby. “We passed her off as my husband’s, which quelled some rumours, and made her heir to our land. I had no desire to find her rightful father. Until,” she squirmed, “until I did. She wasn't two months old when I began to feel this… pull. I tried to ignore it, but my heart screamed for me to find him. Not to make him mine, or anything like that, but he needed to know. More than anything, I knew he needed to know of his child. Knew it as sure as the sun and moon. That it was desperately important to bring her to him, if only the once. I don’t know why. Lady Yennefer had a… shop of sorts on our border. Spells and potions for coin. I sought her out and explained the situation. She prepared and I went…” she shook her head, “gods no more than three hours ago. I left the castle to learn what she had found. To know where he was; a portal to the location and back. No more than a day, I swore, as we knew Nilfgaard closed in.”

“But they attacked early,” Lambert said, earning a kick from Eskel. “What? She said so herself.”

“Yes, yes, they…” she dropped her face to the baby and kissed her, shoulders juddering once then twice. “I cannot, cannot tell if it was Destiny that pulled me to be away from the castle when they attacked or just sheer dumb luck.”

Geralt winced. He knew more than most about Destiny’s convoluted and cruel ways.

“Well,” Vesemir said, “whichever it was, you are welcome here as long as you need to stay. We’ve recently been letting in ladies, and it’s done us no harm yet.” He looked softly at Ciri. 

A call to Yennefer last winter brought herself, Sabrina and Triss, badly wounded in the last battle, but still limping on, as well. The sorceresses portalled in and out as they wished, Yennefer more regularly than the others.

Lambert muttered something about being overrun by women so softly only the Witchers heard it.

Marlia turned her body and bowed her head at Vesemir. “I am grateful, sir.”

“Just Vesemir, please. Not one to accept a title I haven’t been given.”

“Vesemir, then. And I know Geralt of Rivia, if not by Ciri’s affections than by the,” she gestured to his hair, "songs of The White Wolf"

“I’m Lambert, this is Eskel,” the two Witchers across the table awkwardly dipped as much as they could when she declined her head to them as well.

“Lady Yennefer, she completed the locator spell before the soldiers arrived. She was building the portal when they attacked. I gave her my daughter and begged her to take her to safety while I held off the men as long as I could.” She gestured to the bloody cloaking pooled around her. “I was surprised, though obviously grateful she pulled me along. I don’t even know where she was supposed to be taking us originally. She did the locator spell, swore in,” she smiled, “quite a few languages and refused my payment. I suppose when they attacked she altered the portal to a place of safety instead.” Marlia withdrew a bag of coins and held it out to Vesemir. “I do not know how long it will take Lady Yennefer to recover and take me ho… elsewhere. But I will give you what she refused. And if you gentlemen,” she turned to the other Witchers, “have any mending to be done, I will be only too glad to earn my keep. Girls in my family are as deft with a needle as we are a dagger.”

Vesemir closed her hand around the pouch. “No payment needed, my lady. If you are Ciri’s family, then you will be treated as family here.”

Geralt had a quick flash of panic that, with a relative found, Ciri might be taken or wish to go from him.

As if she could read his mind, Marlia turned to Geralt and beamed a smile so comely, he nearly couldn’t hold her gaze. “Good Witcher, I cannot express my gratitude and joy that my dear little cousin has found her place with you. I know Uncle Eist did his best, but even a grandfather is no replacement for a father. When I find a new home, please know you will always, always be welcomed there.” She turned back to the others. “All of you, As you said, Vesemir,” she smiled, “you have taken Cirilla as your family, therefore you are now all family to me. I’d swear a blood oath, but I still have other blood on me.”

The Witchers, unaccustomed to such open-hearted affection, all squirmed a bit.

Ciri jumped up, handing the baby to Geralt and going to fetch her own napkin and a basin to help her cousin wash her hands.

“I have,” Geralt found himself saying, prompting all eyes to him as he shifted the infant awkwardly in his arms. “I have a chemise that could use repairs. And my,” he cast about for the right word, “companion, still abed now, had some terrible rips in his clothes as well.” Or he would as soon as Geralt could get to them. He knew how it felt to be anxious to be useful. Even if all Witchers knew how to repair their own clothes, they could let the lady do it to take her mind away from the horrors she had witnessed befalling her home.

Maybe it was how Ciri lit up to see her, or that she clearly had no plans to take away his daughter, but he found himself warming to her already. Affection came easier to Geralt lately, safe with his brothers and father, with his daughter and his… Jaskier.

Marlia seemed to sigh out her tension with a pleased hum. “Of course. If any of you’ve leather armor, I can mend that as well though iron or steel are beyond my capabilities.”

Eskel and Lambert each mumbled over each other about the repairs they would be obliged to her for.

Vesemir nodded. “It is settled. You may stay as long as you like and we’ll find you something to do. I’m afraid,” he nodded at the baby, “we might have less provisions for her.”

“I have a goat!” Eskel exclaimed. “If she needs milk or such.”

Lambert and Geralt rolled their eyes in unison. Even Ciri laughed a little at his outburst.

Marlia blushed and bit her lip as if nervous. “Yes, well she is still young enough that I am able to provide for her nourishment, thank you… Eskel? Am I saying that right?”

“Yes, my lady,” Eskel nodded, smiling at her.

She smiled back, ducking her eyes down and then back up at him.

Geralt was about to tease Eskel when the door opened and three things happened at once.

Jaskier strode into the room, arms spread, and called out “Good morning, dear Witchers” as he had done every morning since they arrived a week ago.

Marlia dropped her spoon onto the table so hard it clattered and splashed porridge, a hand flying to her mouth as she gasped.

Unsettled, the baby in Geralt’s arms let out a cry. Geralt looked down just in time to see the babe open her eyes. Her cornflower blue eyes. He’d seen that exact shade of blue in only one other pair of eyes in his whole long life.

Those eyes were now wide and unblinking at Marlia, Jaskier’s mouth working though uncharacteristically quiet.

“It’s you,” Marlia breathed.


	2. Pennyroyal and Sage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier.exe has stopped working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time.

Vesemir stood, assessing what was happening at once. “Eskel, Lambert, get yourselves to the courtyard. Lion Cub, get your leathers, it’s time for training. Geralt, you’re on clean-up.”

Ciri frowned to be missing what was shaping up to be quite the drama, but she obeyed the order. Kissing the baby’s still squalling face, she left the room, edging past Jaskier, who had not moved a muscle.

The girl’s actions brought Jaskier’s attention to the still mewling baby in Geralt’s arms. “Oh,” he shook his head. “Oh no, no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no. My dear dear lady you are mistaken. You remember the pennyroyal and sage potion you took in the morning before I left? That was to prevent,” he gestured helpless, eyes going to Geralt in panic, “events… like this.”

Marlia frowned. “Sage? I did not know there was sage in it. I threw it up not an hour later. I have never been able to tolerate sage; I always end up vomiting after consuming anything it is present in.”

Jaskier looked like he might run or scream or quite frankly, possibly even faint.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, sharp but not loud. “She doesn’t smell of lies.” When the bard looked at him, Geralt couldn’t help the wince as he said, “the babe is yours.”

“I have known no other man,” Marlia said, voice soft. “There is no question to the paternity.”

Jaskier looked ready to argue again, when Geralt looked down at the baby, quiet now, blinking up at him as if curious. “She has your eyes.”

“She?” Jaskier said at last, slowly drawing close.

Marlia nodded, her hand smoothing the fine brown hairs on the girl’s forehead. “Her name,” she laughed, though it felt a bit forced, “is Melody.”

Jaskier came to the other side of the table and slowly sat. “Lady Marlia. How- why-“ his eyes flicked to Geralt, then the baby and back to Marlia, “How?”

Geralt gently lowered himself to sit beside the woman, careful not to jostle the infant in his arms. “She has just suffered greatly and needs to regain her strength,” he handed her the scattered spoon. “By her leave, I’ll sum up the events you weren’t… present for.”

So he told the tale, softly so as not to irritate the babe or frazzle Jaskier’s nerves further.

Marlia added a comment a time or two, but mostly wolfed down her porridge and the half of the bread that Yennefer had not taken.

Shortly in, Melody began to wail again and Marlia did something to her dress, slipping the babe underneath to nurse.

Jaskier looked like he might faint again.

“Vesemir has invited her to stay,” Geralt concluded. “For her safety and the child’s.”

“Yes, of course,” Jaskier said. “I am sorry… for your loss. Your husband was, he was a good man.”

Marlia’s eyes welled though she held the tears back. “He was. I,” she stood, still feeding the infant, “I should like to rest, if I may?”

Jaskier jumped up, with a charming smile. “Of course! Yes, come use my room. It’s clean and I’m sure I can get the fire going again.”

Geralt frowned as Jaskier led her away, casting a look over his shoulder at Geralt. There were so many emotions on his face and smells to his feelings that Geralt couldn’t parse them all out.

He’d never been unable to read Jaskier before, but as the man walked away with Marlia and the child he had fathered, Jaskier’s heart was a mystery to Geralt for the first time in over twenty years.

Alone in the room, Geralt dropped his head to his hands. Destiny brought Jaskier his own child surprise and a pretty woman, just as Geralt was steeling himself to admit how much he loved the man.

Destiny was an unrepentant dick sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask me about medieval birth control potions; I did a lot of research here.


	3. Chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why did you bring her here?” Geralt asked, sweeping into Yennefer’s room a month after the morning when everything changed. “Of all places.”
> 
> Yennefer raised her eyebrows and continued to do up her dress. “I was engaged to locate the child’s father and bring them to him. I fulfilled my contract.”
> 
> “She says you refused her payment though,” Geralt crossed his arms.
> 
> Yennefer blinked. “The girl would make a terrible spy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Yennefer hate allowed. Take your nonsense elsewhere because I love her.

“Why did you bring her here?” Geralt asked, sweeping into Yennefer’s room a month after the morning when everything changed. “Of all places.”

Yennefer raised her eyebrows and continued to do up her dress. “I was engaged to locate the child’s father and bring them to him. I fulfilled my contract.”

“She says you refused her payment though,” Geralt crossed his arms.

Yennefer blinked. “The girl would make a terrible spy.”

Geralt nodded. “She would. Did you,” he had to ask, “bring her here to interfere with… Jaskier? And I?”

Though they saw each other every day, Geralt and Jaskier hadn’t had time to themselves to… discuss where things stood now.

Jaskier, once the shock wore off, was over the moon for Melody instantly. There were already half a dozen new lullabies filling the keep. He was nearly always with the baby and therefore nearly always with her mother. Though Eskel had begun to teach Marlia knife throwing every morning while Jaskier watched, narrating the action to Melody.

Geralt knew because he often skulked nearby.

Tilting her chin up, Yennefer said, “Huh. I believe I owe Triss several bottles of Erveluce wine. I did wonder why you were more hands off since we reconciled. I assumed it was Cirilla.”

“It was, at first,” Geralt said. For all he and Yennefer had passion to spare, they also fought too much for him to be comfortable letting her mother Cirilla while also being his lover.

“I admit,” Yennefer continued as if he had not spoken, “I was… less shocked to find Jaskier had fathered the babe than that hers was the only babe he had fathered.”

Geralt thought. “He mentioned a potion, something about pennyroyal and sage. Marlia is allergic to sage and spewed up the potion shortly after taking it, so it had no effect on her.”

Yennefer nodded. “Ah yes, that explains it. I’d offer to make him a more potent batch, but knowing I owe Triss that wine means knowing he will likely not need it.”

“He won’t,” Geralt said, hoping he spoke the truth. 

“Well,” Yennefer clapped her hands then folded them, knuckles turning white though no other part of her body betrayed her tension. “I suppose you deserve my congratulations. It only took you over two decades to catch a clue. I’m sure that is a record for you.”

Geralt ignored the dig. “We have made no plans. Yet.”

“Meaning you anticipate plans needing to be made. Well, I shall congratulate Jask when next I see him anyway.”

“No,” Geralt barked, startling them both. “No don’t… Jask? No, we haven’t, he hasn’t-“

“Oh dear,” Yennefer’s smile was sharp as a flint. “Then perhaps you best make your intentions known soon. He’s been awfully chummy with Lady Marlia. I assumed he was planning to woo her before you mentioned you returned his simpering feelings at last. Maybe he’s thinking of a different future now.”

Geralt felt anger rise and again, blessed his decision to no longer pursue Yennefer. He felt doubt creep in. Jaskier had been spending much of his time with Marlia and Melody, less with Geralt. No long nights spent talking, no casual touches that hinted at more. What if Jaskier had decided that a normal family was preferable to him over a life of danger and singing pretty lies to get Geralt paid or misdirect Cirilla’s identity. She was forever pestering Jaskier to sing that particular ballad to her.

Geralt shook his head as if to clear it, trying not to rise to Yennefer’s bait as he once might have done. “Then why bring her here? You have been in a situation not dissimilar before and you saved the babe, not the mother. Your last day as a court mage.”

Yennefer raised her chin regally. “She didn’t rely on me to defend, as the other did. Nor did she try to sacrifice her daughter to save her own skin. She put her child’s safety first. Marlia would have died, horrifically, for the chance the babe would live. I don’t see that kind of bravery out of most noblewomen I have met. I felt she deserved to be saved.”

“She did,” Geralt agreed. “Mine is a smaller pool, but she’s not like most noblewomen I have known either.”

“I see Cirilla in her. And Eist,” Yennefer said. “I respected him; few men can claim that privilege.” 

Geralt nodded his agreement. “It’s why you vouched for her with Vesemir.”

“I vouched because I knew she posed no threat.” Yennefer tilted her head. “Physical threat anyway.”

“Jaskier, you assumed he was- Did he… say anything about courting Marlia?”

Yennefer looked him up and down before turning away. “No,” she admitted. “Whenever we have our chats, it’s all about you. Poor idiot has been in love with you for a very, very long time.”

Looking at the wall, Geralt sighed, “I… knew and I didn’t. Much like I knew I had begun to requite his feelings and yet I wasn’t able to see that until Ciri all but beat me over the head with the words I needed to hear.”

“A matching pair of idiots,” Yennefer smiled, the bitterness of her inciting words from before all but gone. “May I suggest you go and talk to Jask before he decides you were accepting just his friendship and not his love?”

Geralt raised his eyes to her. “If I do will you tell me more about these chats and ‘Jask’?”

Yennefer laughed. “Only if he doesn’t get to it in his pillow talk. He’ll be much chattier after a good fucking, don’t you think?”

“Yennefer.” He’d been thinking of things like that for months.

She ignored him. “I’ve imagined it, I’ll admit. He may be a simpering idiot, but he is tall and quite well built under those fancy clothes. And the many and varied tales of his prowess cannot all be fabrication. Too detailed.”

“Yennefer,” Geralt said, tone begging her to stop talking.

She grinned at him, catlike and shrewd. “Oh sorry, were you still here? I thought you had already left to make your declaration of love before the man whose heart you threw off a mountain not even, what three years ago, chooses the mother of his…“ she watched Geralt made a hasty retreat and shook her head. She sighed and dropped her smile. She’d give herself this night to be angry, to be bitter that Geralt was never to be hers again. Yennefer waved a hand to make a jug of water turn to a fine wine as all the flowers in her room wilted and died. She’d honestly never thought Geralt would return the boy’s feelings, but now he has, it makes sense. The two of them make sense. She took a long swig of the wine. Tomorrow she will be happy for her friends. Tonight is for her and her alone.


	4. Proposal #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously Geralt, everyone knows you and Jaskier are in love. Literally everyone.

Geralt hesitated at the kitchen doorway, where Lambert had smirkily directed him to find Jaskier. From within he heard laughter and the babbling cries of Melody.

Jaskier sounded happy. So happy. Geralt doubted his resolve and contemplated letting them be. A life as a noblewoman’s husband was far safer than one as a Witcher’s.

He heard Jaskier talking softly and Marlia’s surprised gasp.

Geralt’s heart sank as she replied and Jaskier laughed.

A sincere laugh from a light heart.

He heard Jaskier head through to the courtyard and Geralt sank against the door, heart dropping as if through water.

Though he had not heard the words, Geralt found himself sure that Jaskier had proposed and Marlia had been shocked before accepting so sweetly that it made Jaskier laugh as if his heart were free of trouble forever.

At her side, it probably would be.

He did not think he’d sighed out loud, but Marlia’s soft voice called through the door. “If there’s someone there, I could use a hand with the potatoes.”

She also sounded happy and Geralt’s heart continued to plunge, even as he opened the door.

Once inside, he regarded the smiling woman and tried to accept what was happening.

Marlia had begun to smell like Jaskier lately. At first, Geralt assumed it was the babe she often carried in her arms that carried the bard’s scent. But even when away from the infant, Marlia’s scent tinged with his.

Not even a year into their time together, Jaskier started to smell like sun-warmed wildflowers. Geralt assumed it was one of the lotions or oils the bard had been able to stock up on once his songs made their purses fatten. He could barely remember what Jaskier had smelt of before that floral note became the strongest.

All Geralt knew was that Jaskier, unlike nearly everyone the Witcher had ever met, had never once smelled of fear when he looked at Geralt.

Not privy to Geralt’s internal struggle, Marlia kicked a stool over to him and set the barrel of potatoes between them.

Geralt took out a knife and began to peel, staring at his hands.

“Mark for your thoughts, Geralt?” Marlia asked, bouncing Melody on her knee as she worked. “If you came looking for Jaskier, you just missed him, I’m afraid. I think he went looking for you.”

She smiled and Geralt looked to her hands. Bare of a ring still, but Geralt was sure Jaskier would rectify that once the winter thawed.

At his lack of response, Marlia looked up at him. “You look like you have sad words on the tip of your tongue. Are you all right?”

“If, if it’s Jaskier’s wish to wed you,” Geralt felt his throat tighten saying the words, “I will not stand in the way.”

The silence after his words seemed to stretch on for an age. He wasn’t sure Jaskier would have even mentioned that he and Geralt had… a possibility between them. He could tell Marlia was resorting the thoughts in her head by how quickly she blinked and the citrus sour confusion that bloomed around her.

“Oh my dear Witcher,” Marlia laughed awkwardly. ”No. No, I truly meant it when I said that I have no desire to pursue a romance with Marlia’s father. I needed him to know her. Maybe it was my own destiny to be brought here. To find Cirilla safe and well, to gain a new family to replace what I lost, to give my daughter the chance to know her father. I don’t want Jaskier for myself, whatever you or he might think. Honestly, until this morning, my assumption was that he and you already had an understanding. He always speaks of you as if you are the dearest thing in the world to him. Jaskier lights up around you, becomes more alive; have you not noticed?”

If the woman saw his utter shock, she gave no sign.

“I,” she bit her lip, “believe it was you who caused him the pain I saw in him when we met. A mountain of sorrows, he called his heart, when I mentioned your songs. Yet your name was always on his lips, like he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t speak of you sometimes.”

Geralt dropped his head. “I was cruel and unfair to him. I have been trying to make amends. To…” he gestured uselessly, “let him know what’s in my own heart.”

“Jaskier loves you,” Marlia said, simple fact.

“I love him,” Geralt confessed. “I have never deserved his devotion, but I will spend the rest of our time together trying to.” He shook his head, smiling a little. “You find me a man who can express his heart. That’s a recent development.”

“Cirilla has mentioned how taciturn you were. Jaskier has as well.” Marlia tossed a potato in his lap. “But you’re right, I have found you a warm and kind soul since we met. How gentle you are with Ciri, how much you and your brothers tease and joke. All I remember of the first time I saw you, at the wedding, was your stiffness.” She laughed a little. “Though I will say, I had a most unladylike giggle over you wishing the lords shitless deaths.”

Geralt laughed as well, raising his head. He regarded her. “He would be safer with you. Jaskier’s life has been in peril more than once at my side. Once even at my own unknowing hand.”

Taking a new potato to peel, Marlia shook her head. “I married a man who would never love me most once. I will not do it again. It’s why I turned him down just now.”

Geralt started. “Then he did propose?”

“He did, stupid man,” she raised her eyes to the ceiling as if beseeching the gods for strength. “Said his land and all he owned on it was mine for the having. Viscountess de Lettenhove: a new title and new inheritance for Melody. A new identity, hidden from Nilffgard. It’s a sensible decision, I do admit.”

“But he laughed after you spoke. Why did he laugh at your refusal?”

“Because I told Jaskier if he didn’t plight his troth honestly, I would knee him in the balls.”

A laugh barked out of Geralt.

Marlia joined him. “He laughed as you did. Then went in search of you.”

Geralt stood. “I must go.”

“Yes, you must. Geralt,” Marlia hesitated, “I know you’ve already a daughter, but I believe Melody could stand an additional father, when you take your place at Jaskier’s side. I believe children should have as much love as can be given to them. And I see how well you all love Ciri. I’d be glad if Melody got to share in your family.” The woman cleared her throat. “I would be honoured if I could as well. Someday.”

Geralt knelt in front of the woman and took her hand. He wasn’t one for chivalry, that was Eskel, but he kissed her knuckles lightly. “It’s I who am honoured by your,” he tried to find an appropriate word and felt himself hesitate. Jaskier was the wordsmith, not Geralt. If Geralt could find the words for Marlia, maybe he could finally find the right ones for Jaskier. “You will always have a place in my, our home,” he said, trying to parrot her words from weeks ago when she arrived. “As will Melody.”

The child cooed in her mother’s arms as if she understood her own name was being said.

Marlia threw her unoccupied arm around Geralt and kissed his cheek.

Geralt embraced her, placing his hand as softly as possible on Melody’s head.

“Oh.”

The two of them turned to see Jaskier in the doorway, as he had been on the morning when Marlia and Melody first arrived.

Now instead of shocked, he looked the most content Geralt had ever seen him, something like tears in his eyes even as he smiled.

Marlia pulled back. “I need to go see about some mending before I begin dinner, if you will excuse me.”

She left, letting Jaskier kiss Melody’s head as she passed.


	5. Proposal #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEY TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS AT LAST.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be the PG-13 parts of our story. No major detail but there's gonna be some sexy things mentioned.

Jaskier smiled at Geralt. “It’s odd, isn’t it? To think of us as fathers.” He came to sit next to Geralt, who reclaimed his seat. “I never wanted it, but now that they- she’s here, I cannot imagine it any other way.”

Geralt turned to Jaskier. He had Marlia’s blessing, but if she were Jaskier’s choice, Geralt would still stand aside for his friend’s happiness. “You proposed to Marlia?”

Surprised, Jaskier’s words came in a tumble behind an insincere and guilty smile. “Well, it makes sense, eh? Me and Marlia. You and Yennefer. A couple of-“

“Yennefer and I are not a couple,” Geralt said. “Nor will we ever be.”

Jaskier’s smiled turned sadder. “I’ve seen how she is around here. She fits. I’m sure she still cares for you.”

“I don’t care for her.” Geralt thought and amended. “I don’t care for her in that way. Not anymore.”

“She is your destiny,” a bitter tang arose in Jaskier’s scent. Envy.

Geralt paused as he thought how to thoroughly explain himself. “Yennefer is part of my destiny because my daughter needs a mother and Yennefer deserves a child. Not because I need a wife. I can choose my own mate.”

Jaskier tilted his head. “And you don’t choose the immortal witch? The one person who will live as long as you do?”

The thought that Jaskier was mortal was one Geralt had never been able to come to terms with. He hadn’t liked it when Jaskier was in danger while they travelled and being reminded that the man wasn’t going to be at Geralt’s side for the rest of the Witcher’s long life was an abhorrent one now. Maybe Jaskier would be better off with Marlia, who would age as he did.

The hesitation went on too long and Jaskier sighed, standing and turning to leave.

Geralt’s hand clamped down on his arm before Geralt knew he had moved.

“You could… you could have a full life with her. With Marlia and Melody.”

“I’m having a full life with you,” Jaskier’s voice was steady even as his face betrayed his hope.

“Dammit Jaskier,” Geralt growled and stood. It was for the best if the bard left with the lady when the winter ended. Geralt had been a fool to think that he would be able to have Jaskier only to lose him to old age.

“No!”

Geralt startled, unused to the power in Jaskier’s voice.

“No,” Jaskier repeated, softer. “I have had been with you, on and off, for my entire adult life. I have walked behind and in front of you. Chased you and followed you. I have handed you your potions and cleaned your wounds. Even when apart, even when I loved others, part of my heart was always yours. As for a full life,” Jaskier took a deep breath. “I could be a father, even without Melody. Because as your partner,” his voice shook slightly and the scent of hope grew heavier, “Ciri would be my daughter too. And I love her. I love her just as much as the girl I helped create. And I love Yennefer, with a healthy and reasonable amount of fear mind you, for being Ciri’s mother. As I love Marlia for being Melody’s. But you, Witcher dearest,” he placed his hand over Geralt’s still on his arm, “I have not taken a breath without being in love with you since before I entered my second decade.”

Geralt’s own breath stopped short in his chest. Yennefer had said something about Jaskier being in love with Geralt for so long, but he hadn’t dared believe her.

“And,” Jaskier continued, well and truly into the soliloquy now, “it isn’t as if you have a safe and easy job. You could just as easily be ripped open by a monster,” blue eyes dimmed at the thought, “and then it’s I who will walk the world alone. With naught the memory of my love to accompany me. I can bear that thought about as well as you do. But all love ends in death. Even the kind kept safe in a coastal cottage. Someone dies first. If it’s you, I will sing your praises until my own dying breath. If it’s me,” Jaskier smiled, “I wish for you to keep living. Raise our girls-“

The idea of Cirilla and Melody being theirs equally was a heady thought as Geralt rebuilt his world with every loving word from Jaskier’s mouth.

“-save people who aren’t nearly grateful enough. Save monsters who aren’t truly monsters. Be the hero you are.”

“The hero you made me,” Geralt said, finding a voice at last. “I wouldn’t be… quite how I am without you.” He felt his own hope rise but had to be sure. He had to throw every obstacle he could think of, because if they did this and it fizzled out some years down the line, Geralt wasn’t sure his heart would ever recover. He would finally become what many thought him to be: a creature of no heart, no feelings. “What about when 30 years have passed? When you are gray and wizened while I barely age?”

“Then may all marvel at my good fortune to have so beautiful a lover,” Jaskier said, arms thrown wide before they came to rest on his hips. “Also, I reject the word ‘wizened’. I have taken a fine wine approach to ageing, as you can see.”

Geralt nodded, eyes slowly travelling Jaskier’s form. Though in his early forties, Jaskier still seemed as bright and beautiful to Geralt as he was when only 20. Not as flighty; Jaskier had settled into himself as the years passed. “I can see that.”

Jaskier bit his lip and drew closer. “I will spend many more decades with you if I can. If I cannot, know I lived the best life I could have known. That I was happy with you. And if there is an afterlife that awaits us all, I will sit outside the gate and compose beautiful songs to play for you when you arrive, however long it takes. I. Love. You.” He punctuated each word with a finger poking Geralt in the shoulder, laughing a little as if in relief to be allowed to voice the words. “I have loved you, do love you, will love you.”

“Marry me.” The plea was out before Geralt had finished forming the thought, instinct carrying him.

Jaskier gasped before he laughed. And laughed some more. “Oh my darling. Geralt, Geralt, Geralt,” he said his name as if it were his favourite thing in the world. “Kiss a person before you propose.” His eyes sparkled in mischief. “Were you raised by wolves?”

Geralt moved closer, finding it thrilling and odd that they were of a height and he barely had to tilt down to be a breath from Jaskier’s lips at last. “I love you as well. I know it has taken me too long and I will not be as good as your former lo-”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s shirt and pulled him in to a kiss with such force that Geralt stumbled back a step.

They lost themselves in kisses, new and yet years in the making. Geralt catalogued every sound Jaskier made, every nuance to the taste of him. This close, that wildflower scent was strong as if they were in a meadow.

Jaskier’s face dropped his eyes to Geralt’s chest when they parted at last, arms tight around each other. “I drowned the impossibility of my love in any willing body I could find. Love came quickly and easily with them and dissolved the same way. You alone have I loved above all else. And now,” he pressed his grin to Geralt’s mouth, a soft kiss, “you have finally spoken the words. Not grunted or hmmed. How could anyone else have claim to my heart when it is yours entirely?” He winked. “The only thing I can regret is that we didn’t start this when I was younger and had a better refractory period.”

Geralt’s brain ground to a halt as Jaskier’s hands slid down his shoulders and lower back to cup his ass. “Bedroom. Now.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jaskier grinned before he took off towards Geralt’s room at a run.

Geralt caught up quickly and they raced through the keep, hands clasped.

Jaskier took the final turn so sharply he hit the wall, bouncing off but not slowing down until the door was open and Jaskier was dragging Geralt inside by his shirt.

Geralt’s hands touched Jaskier’s torso as he kicked the door closed behind them. “Are you hurt? The walls are solid stone.”

Jaskier threw his head back and laughed, sweeter than Geralt had heard earlier. “Darling Geralt, I could not possibly feel pain at this moment. If the roof caved in, it would not prevent me from finally doing this.” This turned out to be fisting his hands in Geralt’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss so skilled that Geralt was left panting and hard when Jaskier pulled back.

As if just realizing he could finally have what he wanted, Geralt buried his hands in Jaskier’s hair, biting a trail from his ear to his shoulder.

There would be marks. Geralt wanted there to be marks.

“Possessive,” Jaskier gasped, hips rutting into Geralt. “Yes, please, I’ll have some more of that,” he laughed. “Though as the one who has been mapping this night-“

“-It’s midday.”

“-this NIGHT in his dreams for twenty odd years, permit me to direct the scene.” Jaskier twirled them around and shoved Geralt towards the bed.

Geralt lay down, gratified at the weight of Jaskier on top of him a moment later. It was easy to think of the man as small and delicate, but Jaskier was, indeed, well-built and strong under his hastily shed fancy clothes. He was in his smalls before Geralt had even finished marveling at the skin being revealed.

Jaskier’s thighs, strong from years of walking at Geralt’s side, were all Geralt could focus on for a long moment. He was going to spend at least half an hour worshipping them alone.

Manhandling Geralt up to divest him of his shirt, Jaskier settled back over Geralt’s lap, looking down at the other man in absolute wonder.

“Oh fuck yes,” Jaskier breathed, hands tracing Geralt’s muscles, gentle over his scars. “Oh my darling,” he lay back down and kissed Geralt, still touching him as if awed.

A swipe of Jaskier’s hand along the dip of his belly button made Geralt groan as if he’d never been touched before in his life.

Jaskier chuckled lightly and repeated the gesture. “You have no fucking idea,” the same again, with a fierce bite to Geralt’s pec, his own mark blooming, “how much I am going to enjoy making you sing for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am super proud of that end line.


	6. Wildflowers of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Alls well that ends well

They did not, could not emerge from the room until their growling stomachs drove them to dinner many hours later.

Jaskier didn’t even try to hide the marks Geralt had left. Geralt didn’t attempt to fix his hair.

Everyone but the baby knew what had happened as soon as they walked in.

“Oh, thank every god on the Continent!” Eskel threw up his hands.

Jaskier looked touched by how happy for them Eskel was, but he’d barely pressed his hand to his heart when Eskel turned to a glowering Lambert. “That’s my share of the chores for the rest of winter you owe me. I told you they’d fu-“ a glance towards Ciri, “finally sort themselves out before the next full moon.”

Lambert frowned and threw a piece of bread at Geralt, who was laughing himself hoarse. “Couldn’t have waited another damn fortnight, huh?”

“If they’d done it last week, I would have won,” Ciri said, dunking her own bread into her stew.

Geralt couldn’t blush but his displeased hum had a note of bashfulness to it.

Jaskier grinned at Marlia as he sat at her side, Geralt settling in next to him. “What was your bet on?”

The woman tried to hide her giggle behind the child on her lap. “Same as Eskel. Ciri is doing the washing all month, by the by.”

“Yes, yes,” Cirilla pretended to grumble, belied by the giant smile on her face as she looked at her father and his beloved. At her fathers.

Vesemir shook his head, smile a mere twitch of his lips. “Is there anyone at this table who has not reverted to a child?”

Melody cooed and the party broke into laughter.

“Apparently one,” Geralt said, reaching past Jaskier to brush an affectionate hand over the baby’s hair.

Shaking his head, Vesemir hid his grin behind his tankard.

Geralt raised his own to his father. “I appreciate you being the only one, besides the babe, who did not feel the urge to gamble on my love life.”

Lambert crowed, “He bet you wouldn’t get your head out of your ass until next winter.”

Turning an indignant face to Vesemir, Jaskier dared to shake his finger at the older man. “How could you. I had every intention of plighting my troth before the spring sun warmed the air and the earth burst forth with a new promise of-“

“Stow your fancy words, lad. It wasn’t you I thought would drag his feet until he fell on his face,” Vesemir said.

Geralt frowned even as Jaskier bent over the table laughing. “Okay, we’re done talking about this.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, grin stretching his face. “I’ll have you all know it was Geralt who did the proposing thank you. Not on his knee, but it was still very…” he trailed off as he noted the wide eyes that stared at him. “Ah. Right. Were we going to tell them about that?”

“Not just yet,” Geralt sighed.

Ciri reacted first, launching herself around the table so she could hug them both. “Yes! I want to help plan the ceremony. I’ve been coming up with ideas for the past year!”

Jaskier blinked at her, squeezing her arm. “I only joined you both eight months ago.”

“As soon as Father mentioned you, I was sure of it,” she waved a hand. “I’ve always known you were part of my destiny as well.”

Geralt pulled back. “What?”

Cirilla tilted her head. “Well of course. When you found me at last, I only needed to ask about Mother because I hadn’t heard her name before it bounced around my head. Jaskier’s name was there too, but I’d seen him perform. I knew who he was. Why else would I insist so much on finding him once our first winter passed? Once I met Yennefer, I knew she was my mother but not your beloved. So I figured that meant Jaskier was.” She turned to Jaskier. “Did he ever tell you how much I yelled at him when he told me of what he said to you on the mountain? He was so stupid!”

Jaskier tensed at Geralt’s side but was soothed quickly by an affectionate hand on his own. A promise that they would never be parted again.

“Something,” Ciri pursed her lips as she thought how to phrase things, “something in me knew you were my father as well. And when I heard how badly he treated you, I knew I had to make him make things right.” She smirked, not unlike Yennefer, “And I was right.” Ciri turned back to her food and looked up at Marlia. “Oh! Can you help me sew something for Melody? I’ve never liked sewing much, but I want to make her and I matching dresses for the wedding.”

Lambert muttered, “Dark blue will flatter both your complexions.”

Eskel laughed and leaned back, “Best set a good precedent.” His eyes went across the table to Marlia. “For the first Kaer Morhen wedding.”

The woman smiled, bright and soft as morning sunshine, at Eskel. For his part Eskel’s smile softened and he proffered her another orange slice from the back of his knife.

Geralt caught the scent he’d long associated with only Jaskier.

Geralt turned to see Jaskier watching him with a bright, soft smile he’d caught glances of for years.

“Jaskier,” he asked voice low to not be overheard by the resume of conversation at the table, “your oils, soaps and things? Are any of them scented like wildflowers?”

The bard paused with a spoon most of the way to his mouth. “No. Fruits and herbs mostly. I’ve got oil of lavender for aiding sleep and my face cream is made with rosewater, but no wildflowers. Why?”

Geralt had never known it before Jaskier came into his life, so he could be forgiven for not knowing what it meant when he smelled summer-blooming wildflowers in someone’s heart. “No reason.” He paused. “Darling.”

Jaskier made a face. “Oh no, I don’t think so. No, no, pet names are for me to say to you,” he dipped his head against Geralt’s for a moment.

“No?” Geralt grinned. “Can I call you Jask then?”

Jaskier startled back and narrowed his eyes. “Ah, I see Yenny has broken the pact of secrecy. She will rue that decision.”

Geralt choked. “Yenny?”

Smile sharp, Jaskier nodded. “Oh yes, Yenny. You already know everything I’ve ever confided to her, but I have sooooo many little tidbits she has told me. I’ll be unavailable tomorrow morning, dear heart. I must pay a private call on a certain loose-lipped witch.”

Geralt nosed along Jaskier’s ear, pressing his thumb to where he knew a bite bruised on Jaskier’s shoulder blade. “Make it tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oi, lovebirds,” Lambert threw a piece of potato at them. “Keep it clean. There’s delicate ladies present.”

Marlia and Ciri looked at each other and in unison said, “Fuck off, Lambert.”

"Uck!" Melody squealed.

Vesemir cracked an open smile at that. “And now you whelps have taught the babe bad habits.”

The room dissolved into laughter and joy.

Geralt tightened an arm around Jaskier and kissed his temple. “My bard.”

“My Witcher,” Jaskier whispered back, the wildflower scent of romantic love on his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like i said before, I have been toying with a prequel (Jaskier and Marlia's time together) and a sequel (I JUST REALLY LIK HER AND ESKEL AND I WANNA FOCUS ON THEM NEXT)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay there be the twisty bit, so we're just gonna go on from here with Jaskier's very own Child Surprise!
> 
> Honestly, if y'all like it, probably going to branch into a prequel and a sequel.


End file.
